DevilMayCry: Remnant of Darkness
by LegacyofLovecraft
Summary: A bit of OCxDante, but I swear this story is more action-adventure based....and...uh...um...I'm not very good at writing summaries...so read what you can and see if you like X3


**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.**

I always wondered how Dante became so great at using swords and guns, along with martial arts--his demon blood couldn't have equipped him with natural knowledge of how to use any of these skills, right? So, being my nerdy, obsessive self, I tried creating a solution: Dante's mother may have known a fellow slayer and was good friends with him/her, and probably asked them to look out for her son(s) if anything were to happen to her, or he just found some random sod to teach him...whatever. Dante **had** to be taken in by someone who trained him well enough to fight on his own, and this prologue shows it....well, sort of XD

Needless to say, it also helps introducing me and my brother's characters; shows how they know Mr. Dante and whatnot........because I secretly dream of Capcom using us as new characters in future DMC games *Cough*andmakemeDante'spermanentloveinterest*Cough* ....yeah, I know...I'm pathetic... .;

Anyway...let's get a move on, eh? Go on now, get away from this part and start reading the damn story already--shoo, shoo! D:

lol

Oh! And please R&R! =D

**Prologue****  
**

When it rained, her tortured screams silenced.

"M-Mom?" the boy called out in the darkness. "Mommy?"

Slowly he crawled out from hiding, his clothes soaked from the heavy rain and clinging to his skin. It was too dark to see, especially with how thick the rain was, but the eerie light of a streetlamp showed him a body lying on the road. It was too far away for him to make out who it was, though he was sure it looked human. Carefully he snuck towards the body in the shadows. He didn't want the monsters to see him, his mother made him promise not to show himself to them.

When close enough, the boy could make out long and golden yellow hair and the body being a woman's. He couldn't really see the face, it was covered by long bangs of her hair. There was so much blood on the ground from several of her wounds. He felt a hard lump develop in his throat, trying to keep the burning tears back as he slowly reached out from the shadows to move the woman's hair out of the way, and when the streetlamp's light touched her fair and familiar face, he choked on his tears before submitting to a heavy sob.

It was his mother.

A strange growl alerted the boy to look up from his grief and into the obscured darkness on the other side of the road. There were red eyes glowing in the shadows, several of them, and before he could react, hideous and loathsome creatures spawned from Hell itself lunged ferociously towards him. Petrified, he could only sit there with his eyes closed and knees drawn in close to his chest, and waited for a savage mutilation. The terrible roars of the monsters overwhelmed him and he screamed. He heard rapid gunshots that filled the air with the stench of gunpowder, then a heavy thud sounded near him. Opening his eyes, the boy gasped when he saw that one of the monsters was dead and pocketed with several bullet wounds.

The rest of the demonic creatures stood there, wildly looking around to find who or what killed their kin, before the flash of light reflected from the blade of a sword decapitated three and then impaled the last one. Blood splattered the ground and on the boy, and he shivered in his trauma as the rain washed him clean, though not the horrible memory he'd carry with him for the rest of his life.

A man now stood before him, holding a beautiful and ornately decorated katana. The blood on the blade was washed away by the rain, and the man placed the tip of it under the youth's chin and gently lifted his head up. The boy couldn't see the man's eyes; they were blindfolded in a long white cloth. His hair was ebony and hung below the waistline. He was tall and powerful looking, and though the boy knew who this man was, he still found him quite intimidating.

"M-Master Socrates?" the boy realized. "How did you…"

"Where is Vergil?" Socrates asked, his tone firm and almost hostile.

The boy cringed back fearfully, turning his head away with eyes closed. "I-I don't know! The monsters must've taken him!"

He heard Socrates curse as he sheathed his sword. The man sighed, and though he could not see, his head turned to face the fallen body of the boy's mother. He murmured something in another language; a prayer, the boy figured, as Socrates made a gesture with his hand before bowing his head in silence.

He found the courage to speak again. "Why are you here?"

"I made a promise to your mother that I would protect you," he answered. "She always knew they'd come looking for you and your brother. I'm just so sorry I never made it in time to save her and Vergil."

"What do you mean she knew? What were those things anyway? They killed her, didn't they? Those monsters killed my mother!"

The rage in the boy's voice amused Socrates. "Do you seek vengeance, Son of Sparda?"

He was at loss of words and lowered his head with balled up fists close to his sides. Of course he wanted revenge—those bastards murdered his mother—she was innocent! If it wasn't for him, she'd still be alive.

The boy began to weep and Socrates pulled him close with his hand on his head. He looked up at the powerful man, remembering his question, and answered between sobs, "I-I want to be strong like you—no, even stronger!—I want to kill every single one of those monsters for what was done here tonight!"

"Such hatred will no doubt see to it that you do," he began, "but to let it rule you—to let it consume your entire being—you'll become something far worse than the demons that took your mother's life."

For a moment there was a silence that surrounded them, except the pounding of the rain, and the boy lowered his gaze from Socrates' to ponder on what he said. It was then that the man turned away and started walking. He followed after him, then remembered his mother just lying there.

"But what about…" his voice trailed off as he stared at her pale and elegant face.

Socrates stopped. "I've already informed someone to take care of the mess. Don't worry, she'll have a proper burial. We've lingered here long enough; now let's go home, Dante."

***

Covered in a thin sheet of sweat, Dante shot up from his bed with a startled gasp. He quickly scanned the room, recollecting his thoughts, and realized it was just another bad dream; a nightmare about the night when he lost his brother to evil and their mother dying when she risked her own life to save his. He could still remember her screams as the demons tortured her. They wanted to know where the other son of Sparda was. She never told.

After gathering his thoughts, Dante glimpsed out a window to the far left of the room. A pale dawn was rising with a sheet of shimmering frost blanketing the grass, and he saw the grey silhouettes of Socrates and friends Angel and Jon-Jon training by the Valley of Posts. He quickly scrambled out of bed, fighting with the blanket as it tangled around his legs and feet, and then dashed out of the room after quickly getting dressed.

The Valley of Posts was one of the many areas Dante trained in with the other two kids, a wide field with wooden posts protruding from the ground in a single file line and varied in size. The three would practice both offense and defense while maintaining balance.

"So, the little prince decided to wake up today," Angel teased, while at the same time dodged one of her brother's hits from the wooden staffs the two used against one another.

"Focus more on training and less on Dante," Socrates teased back and chuckled.

Dante quickly bowed. "I'm sorry that I slept in, Teacher."

The man nodded once and smiled softly. "See to it that it doesn't happen again. Its hard enough getting these two to stay focus long before training begins."

Angel and Jon-Jon both look up from their training and frown at Socrates.

"Anyway, I want to see how well you can balance out against Angel. She's been training longer than you, but I'll have her go easy."

Dante scoffed at this. "With all due respect, Teacher, she's just a girl."

Socrates chuckled and gestured for Jon-Jon to jump down from his post. He took the wooden staff from Jon-Jon's hands and threw it to Dante, who caught it before climbing onto one of the posts. With only one wooden post separating them, the two exchange nods. Feeling particularly confident in himself with a smirk forming on his lips, Dante got into position and waited for the signal to strike.

He winked. "I'll go easy on you, sweetheart."

"Gentlemen don't last very long in the first round…" Angel noted, then added quickly after Socrates gave the signal to strike, "…especially ones who couldn't save their mommies from being killed by demons, little sparrow."

An uncontrollable anger surged throughout Dante's entire being as he blocked multiple blows from Angel's staff, and memories of his mother again flashed before his eyes. He felt a strange power rise within him; his entire being began to glow an eerie blood red as his eyes changed from an icy blue to pitch black. Without even thinking, with only the rage fueling him, Dante dropped his staff and lunged towards Angel with balled up fists. She smirked at this, catching both his fists that were meant to hit her right in the face, and pushed all of her weight on top of him. The rage began to settle before Dante came to his senses and stared into the haughty brown eyes of Angel. With the morning sun now behind her head, he felt bewitched as her fiery red hair glowed beautifully with wild curls framing around her face.

"Oh, com' on, Dante," she playfully growled, pinning both his wrists onto the ground and sitting on top of him, "you can't always throw the same tantrum every time I throw a comeback at ya. Surprise me once in a while."

He raised a brow and smirked. "Oh? Alright then, how's this for a surprise?" And with that, Dante pushed his way up and stole a kiss.

***

Adjusting to a new life that revolved around hours of grueling physical work and training was hard, though Dante was always eager to become stronger and learn how to control his demonic power. Ever since Socrates took him in, he called him "Teacher" like the other two kids he trained with, Angel and her younger brother Jon-Jon. Socrates was a very close friend to Dante's mother. A master swordsman and highly skilled in martial arts, he was even considered a splendid gunslinger amongst many. For as long as Dante could remember, his mother always brought him and Vergil along when she visited Socrates, and that's how he came about meeting and befriending the eccentric redheads, Angel and Jon-Jon.

He wasn't exactly sure what they were, but was told they weren't human; they were something like Werewolves but had a demonic origin. Like Dante, the two were orphans. Although he wasn't one until that horrid night, Angel and Jon-Jon had no memory of a past with parents before being taken in by Socrates, nor was it wholly known what sort of demonic heritage they had. The mystery about the two fascinated Dante, and he felt some sort of kinship with them knowing that demonic blood flowed through their veins like his.

Ever since the night he came to stay with Socrates, he was always comforted and supported by Angel and Jon-Jon. Often he would forget about that tragic event of his life when with them; his mind distracted from grief by the boisterous and eccentric personality of both the siblings, which made it easier to cope with life at times.

As the three reached the mid-teen years, Dante often saw his brother in Angel, which in a way comforted him. Though still very eccentric, she became a very quiet and reserved individual who preferred being alone, though was very talkative if interested by the subject in a conversation, revealing that she was quite intelligent for her age. This trait was very much the same as Vergil's; he was always the distant and quiet type with a zealous thirst for knowledge. Having artistic talent and a lot of imagination, she would often occupy herself doing something creative or read in Socrates' private library alone. She even developed an interest in filmmaking, so would document and direct short films of the little adventures Dante and Jon-Jon went on in the woods neighboring the training grounds, which were the only times she'd leave the comfort of her solitude to join them.

Even when the three were old enough to leave and begin life in the real world, they all kept in touch. Dante started his own business called Devil May Cry, while Angel and Jon-Jon sought out to work as freelancers in exterminating supernatural and demonic activity (though Angel also worked in other freelancing occupations such as being an independent filmmaker, artist, and writer). While his reason for hunting and exterminating demons and devils alike were personal, the two werewolves were in it for no other reason except for that it was "fun" to hunt and kill, seeing as they were taught to value the life of humans rather than destroy it.

***

Mission I: Abomination (Preview)

_No matter how fast his legs could carry him, Brom sensed his foe closing the gap between him and itself. His own footsteps crunching the dead leaves and the sound of his rapid breathing drowned in when a siren-like roar blared and shook the earth beneath him. He glanced behind, seeing the numerous black tentacles stretch out after him from a darkness growing in size like a blotch of ink bleeding into paper. As the horde of darkness drew closer, its loathsome stench became strong enough to make Brom keel over. Defenseless as he began to heave involuntarily because of the smell, the fiendish darkness rode the night's shadows maliciously with its slithering tentacles snapping and crushing the trees that blocked its path to ensnare the victim._


End file.
